Project: Pokémon Morph
by Fire Burning
Summary: Once upon a time, there lived nine little girls and boys, much like you and I once were. They were like characters pulled out from a storybook, yet this wasn't a fairytale. These were real, live Pokémon Morhs, and they have been living a lie since birth.
1. Summary

_Project: Pokémon Morph_

_Disclaimer: I do NOT own Pokemon. I will NEVER own Pokemon, not now nor in any chapter coming after this._

**Summary**

Seven-year-old Misty always knew she was different. I mean, come on—how many humans have Pichu ears and a tail, and live in an orphanage with nine other children much like herself? Yes, it's true: she was one of nine Pokémon Morphs, the first such combinations ever created. Of course, they don't know about this for quite a while. So when she is the only one to evade capture by the Organization for Control of Hybrids, Clones, and Pokémon Species, otherwise known as the OCHCPS, just previously having been told of her origins, it leads her on a quest to both rescue the other nine Morphs, and to find her place in a world where Morphs are considered to be neither human nor Pokémon—a world where they are nothing.


	2. Prologue: The Initial Phase

May 23, 2026, 2:04 P.M.

**Project: Pokémon Morph, **_**Set B**_

The initial phase of Project: Pokémon Morph, _Set B_, Project: PokéMorph, PPM—this project, by whatever name you choose to call it—is finally complete.

As anyone who reads this will soon know—or perhaps my work has already been discovered and I long gone by the time this is found—the purpose of this experiment was to determine how far I, Annemarie Maple, in the name of all scientists and our profession, can go with the knowledge of genetics of all creatures. I aimed to see if it was possible to combine two very different creatures with few similar traits and merge them into one being. In this case, I speak of the human and Pokémon races.

The theory of a human-Pokémon hybrid has long been discussed and imagined. They were fantasy creatures, parts of stories told to little children—such as Kazena (the main character of a childhood fairytale in which a trainer, a girl, treats her Charizard very cruelly and ends up with skeletal Charizard wings of her own), Aqual (another childhood fairytale character that lives in the ocean and whose body from the waist downward is the tail of a Vaporeon), and Mirage (a fictional boy who can transform into any Pokémon at will). The tale of Mirage was the first recorded story of a human-Pokémon creature, and due to his ability to change into a Pokémon, life-forms such as him—human with some sort of linkage to a Pokémon—were thereon called **Pokémon Morphs**. For short, they are called **PokéMorphs**,or** Morphs**.

After a long while, a team of specialized geneticists and I were successful. Over the span of three years I have been able to create exactly thirteen functional Pokémon Morphs (in set B) so far, including those who passed away post-natal. Half of that time was spent researching and experimenting, and naturally there were a few failures—for example, the entirety of my _Set A_ Morphs died out due to genetic calculation errors, which I discuss in my other report—but finally I got the gist of things and the last year-and-a-half was spent successfully.

The procedure for the whole long process is as follows. I shall speak as if I am talking to a child, for I do not know who it is who will find this record and I do not know whether or not they are too young to be hearing about the creation of human life.

Firstly, we had to seek out at least one woman, young and healthy, preferably married and with at least one prior pregnancy, who was willing to carry the child(ren) through the full nine-month term. We also would have liked the women to have a history of multiple births in their family, but we tried not to be too particular. This was by far the longest and most tedious part of the process for each experiment, in my case. There were personal consent forms that needed filling out. A full medical history was requested from each woman's physician, though of course we made it seem as if the woman needed it to apply for a job. Certain medical and physical tests had to be done before the experiment could even begin. We also required the women to sign a contract, which in short banned abortion of the child(ren), the usage of any harmful drugs or consumption of alcohol whatsoever (due to unpredictability of the child's development, although such things are never good for babies), and forbid the sharing of the true nature of the experiment with anyone but the husband, who was also required to sign the contract. Then there was the Pokémon DNA that would be used. The chromosomes needed to be identified and examined to make sure we weren't passing on any defects or inheritable diseases to the unborn child, and to be sure that we were exchanging the right chromosomes.

The second part of the process cannot be explained properly due to the possibility of a child reading this. I do not wish to be responsible for the unfavorable knowledge any young minds contain. All I can tell you is that human life was created, outside of the body, and some chromosomes were switched with those of a specific Pokémon.

Third, we had to wait nine months (or less, in the case of premature births) as the child(ren) developed. The expectant women were required to report to the facility once every month for an ultrasound, and visit once every two weeks for an overall checkup. The frequency of these visits was due to, again, the unpredictability of the development of the unborn child.

Finally, to put it very simply, the women gave birth. This took place at our facility. Then the mother and her husband decided what the best plan of action for them was. The children, needless to say, were to stay at the facility for research. The mothers, on the other hand, were free to go. They could either visit whenever they liked, receive monthly updates about their child(ren), or never come in contact with the infants again. The choice was entirely theirs. It turned out that they all chose either the second or third option; most of the mothers claimed that the child(ren) didn't feel like their own at all. It was still a difficult separation for some, while others walked out without a second thought.

The chromosome arrangement has to be perfect for any of this to work. We intend for the resulting Morphs to be mostly humanoid in appearance. Ears like that of the Pokémon (s)he is combined with and the ability to learn and use Pokémon attacks are examples of the traits that the combination of species could result in.

Now, without further ado, I shall describe to you the beings that are the result of my project.

(Maternal (and paternal) information is located in separate files.)

**Ditto**

**Names (Last, First):** Bliss, Abigail; Cara; Logan (deceased).

**Due date:** October 23, 2024.

**Date of Birth:** October 24, 2024.

**Current Age:** One year and almost five months; one year and almost five months; died at one-and-a-half months.

**Genders: **Female; female; male.

**Blood Type:** A; A; A.

**Appearances at Birth [1] and Afterwards [2]:**

**[1]** By a lucky chance, their mother produced triplets and thus we were able to perform the experimentation very thoroughly—the three would have exactly equal time spent in the womb and we could get a good estimation of the Morphs' differences and similarities. All three had small but distinctly humanoid forms. Their skin color was very pale, almost a close-to-white pinky-peach color. They strangely enough were born with full heads of hair, but the exact reason for this occurrence is unknown. This is all the information I can offer, because as soon as their umbilical cords were cut each proceeded to transform into the first object they saw or encountered—Cara turned into a blanket, Abigail into a washcloth, and Logan into a pair of scissors. At night all three would rotate between their "disguise" form of that day and their human form while they slept, but the majority of that time was spent in their "disguises"—inanimate objects. At the start of each day they always seemed to wake up in human form, open their eyes, and then transform into whatever they laid eyes upon next. Thank Arceus that they only tended to transform into small household objects and not something too big to fit; that was set in stone once we installed infant-proof shelves into their cradles, upon which sat things like stuffed Pokemon dolls and toys that they could see and transform into upon awakening. Thankfully, as babies their ability to transform was lacking in some areas; everything they transformed into remained the same exact color of their hair.

**[2] **Both of the girls ceased transforming into the first thing they saw each day at the age of two months. Logan, however, didn't reach that age. He died in the night mysteriously, tangled in his blankets; I assume that when he died he had recently transformed back to his human form, for that is how I found him. I was finally able to examine him properly. He had dark gray hair and black eyes. His flesh was not that of a typical human, despite my first impression; it was gelatinous like a Ditto's body, which made him bounce back like rubber if he ever fell and prevented serious injury. It held his organs in place securely enough. But this gelatinous body made walking and moving difficult. He had no skeleton to hold him up and to further protect his insides. You could see all his blood vessels and organs through his semi-transparent gelatinous skin, which, believe me, was a _lovely_ sight. I've come to the conclusion that he had just transformed back to his human form when he became entangled in a blanket that had fallen off the shelf in his crib; the cloth constricted around his upper body, and because he lacked a ribcage to protect his lungs, they were crushed.

Cara's hair is a remarkable shade of bubble-gum pink, while Abigail's is pristine white. Cara's eyes are a brilliant shade of gold; Abigail's are a very pale icy blue that reminds me of snow. They are physically identical in every other way, from weight and height to the shapes of their bodies. The two have thankfully ceased using Transform daily, but whenever they're frightened they tend to transform into something as a defensive maneuver. I have noticed that the two seem to share some sort of link that allows them to communicate without words. They've proven to be like typical human beings in every other way. They're well on their way to walking and talking as of recently.

**Personalities: **Cara is the most joyous of the bunch. She's always laughing or giggling for seemingly no reason at all. She's a bundle of sunshine, and gets along very well with the other Morphs because of her joyous nature. Her only downfall is that she has issues with sharing. Abigail is more reserved, but she's just about as caring as Cara is cheerful. She tends to start crying the instant one of the others do, even if she's in a separate room and has no idea what the matter is.

**Hypotheses:** Due to the lack of pattern in the hair color of the three infants—none of their hair colors were ever in their donor/mother's lineage—I've come to believe that something in the Ditto chromosomes interferes with the gene for hair color, resulting in a shade that's very likely completely new to their lineage. In Logan's case, it interfered further, resulting in his condition. We also speculate that since they can use the attack _Transform_, it may be possible for them to copy and use Pokemon attacks upon transforming into a Pokemon.

- - - - - - - - - - -

**Eevee**

**Names (Last, First):** Taylor, Kiera; Krowe; Viola.

**Due date:** February 25, 2024.

**Date of Birth:** February 10, 2024.

**Current Age:** One year and one month; one year and one month; one year and one month.

**Genders: **Female; male; female.

**Blood Type:** O; O; O.

**Appearances at Birth [1] and Afterwards [2]:**

**[1]** By yet another stroke of luck, _another_ set of triplets were able to be born. Thank Arceus and Mew that all were healthy. Because they were born half a month early, they were, of course, smaller than the average newborn. They have a naturally tan skin coloring like their mother. Each of them had a pair of oversized Eevee ears and a bushy brown tail with a white tip. A creamy-white ring of fur grows around the neck of one female, Viola.

**[2] **The three have reached average height and weight at this point in time. Each has toffee-brown hair like their mother's, but ivory strands run throughout their hair, about one cream strand to every twenty brown strands of hair. Kiera's never seems to want to stay put. Viola's ring of fur is shorn off whenever necessary to keep from being conspicuous. All three have their mother's navy-blue eyes, and, also very like their mother, all three are naturally slender. Kiera is the biggest of the three, while Krowe is the smallest. Their ears are still remarkably big for their heads, and their tails are so bushy that they are nearly the width of the babies themselves; in a taught, straight position, if the tails were measured they must be as tall as they themselves are!

**Personalities: **Kiera is the most erratic and moody child I've ever chanced upon. She scorns authority, throws tantrums when she doesn't get her way, and you never know what kind of mood she'll be in next. She's rather sweet most of the time, though, and whenever she's doing something naughty she gets the cutest little look of mischief on her face. Viola is her opposite. She's shy and quiet, never one to approach the other babies unless someone sets her down among them, but by far the sweetest. Krowe is serious and sullen. It's a challenge to get him to laugh or smile, and whenever he's thinking hard about something he frowns and screws up his face in a rather comical way.

**Hypotheses:** I do believe that as they grow their ears and tail will become more in proportion with the bodies. They may or may not be able to evolve by the influences of evolutionary stones, the time of day, or being at a certain place upon meeting certain requirements (those requirements being unknown, in their case).

- - - - - - - - - - -

**Minun**

_Two offspring of a natural birth._

**Names (Last, First):** Fausette, Jasmyn; Xavier.

**Due date:** July 6, 2025.

**Date of Birth:** July 8, 2025.

**Current Age:** Ten months; ten months.

**Genders: **Male; female.

**Blood Type:** AB; B.

**Appearances at Birth [1] and Afterwards [2]:**

**[1]** We seem to have remarkable luck with multiple births in this facility. The twins were born small, with pale skin and big, bright blue eyes. Both were born with ears of a Minun; no tails were present. They do, however, have faint blue cheek pouches of a Minun, which hints that they both have the ability to use electric attacks.

**[2] **Jasmyn has fast-growing obsidian black hair that already reaches her chin; it's usually kept in two very tiny braids. She's taller than her brother, though just slightly. Xavier's hair is also black, but it's not quite as quick to grow, and it's lighter shade than Jasmyn's, though only noticeable if they're standing beside one another. They're both still on the smaller side for their age.

**Personalities: **Jasmyn, I'm afraid, is rather clingy and self-centered. She constantly shoves away the other children when they want to play with or _are_ playing with a toy she wants to play with. She tries to monopolize our attention, too, and cries when we so much as look at the other babies. Arceus forbid we hold them. It'll take some careful handling to show her that she's not the only little girl who needs our attention. She's a sweetie, though, but people may not see this until they really get to know her. Xavier, on the other hand, is quiet and observant; it's actually possible to forget he's even there sometimes! He prefers to stay to himself. I don't believe this is due to shyness, but perhaps he just enjoys watching rather than interacting. He, too, will need careful guidance, to make sure he doesn't seclude himself when he's older!

**Hypotheses: **Do Pokémon's abilities pass on to these Morphs? I'm not quite sure. We plan on having a Plusle Morph, to see how the Minun-children react to them. After all, Minun's ability is Minus, which reacts with Plusle's ability, Plus. It's surely a reliable way to determine whether or not this is a liable hypothesis.

- - - - - - - - - - -

**Rattata**

**Names (Last, First):** Lightfoot, Andrew; Jay.

**Due date:** September 7, 2025.

**Date of Birth:** September 15, 2025.

**Current Age:** Eight months; eight months.

**Genders: **Male; male.

**Appearances at Birth [1] and Afterwards [2]:**

**[1]** These two boys were rather small at birth, though probably due to the shortness of their mother. They are identical twins. Neither had hair at the time of birth, but their eyes were slate gray. They had tiny Rattata ears and a matching tail.

**[2] **If you don't know these two as well as the other scientists, caretakers, and I do, Andrew and Jay will probably both look exactly the same to you. Both have short purple-black hair, which, to say, the least, is quite an odd coloring, and gray eyes. They're still small, exactly the same height. Jay, however, is blind, and Andrew has a scar on his arm from when he managed to find a "new toy"—a broken piece of glass we'd failed to spot in time. Arceus knows how he got hold of it.

**Personalities: **Andrew is bright and perky; he never seems to stop smiling. He loves playing with the other kids, being quite outgoing and friendly. Jay, on the other hand, is rather quiet, which I once would never have dreamed I'd be saying. I think it must be because of his newly-acquired blindness and how strange it is to him. It was only recently that a high fever stole away his sight from him. He has a fondness for building blocks and anything else that can be stacked.

**Hypotheses: **We're not quite sure what their hair color comes from, but until further notice we have assumed that it has something to do with a Rattata's fur color.

**Pichu**

**_- P I C H U P I C H U -_**

"Misty? Are you awake, too?"

Misty regretfully looked up from the report she was so diligently reading and relocated her gaze to the speaker, a young girl of no more than nine or ten years old making her way from across the boat, more specifically a fishing boat. "Over here, Viola." The girl, obviously named Viola, spotted her, pricked her Eevee ears happily, and announced that she'd be there in a moment. Her long brown hair was blown every which way by the sea breeze, the sun glinting off each ivory strand. Her dark, navy blue eyes glimmered with excitement. As Viola carefully picked her way across the deck, she swayed slightly, but regained her balance and swiftly hurried to Misty's side. "Hello, Misty." She spoke in a naturally quiet voice, only slightly hushed, but she was obviously excited and happy.

"Hi." Misty smiled, a rare occurrence for her these days. Viola grinned back at her. Misty looked straight ahead, through the gap between the metal bars that made up the railing, out at the horizon. Viola followed suit, and for about two minutes they stood there quietly, self-appointed sentinels of their voyage.

Indeed, she, Viola, and nine other children about their age were on their way to the Hoenn region. Kanto had been their home for so long, and yet now their grand but frightening adventure in that region was over. They were leaving everything behind in little Berryton on this, their secret moving day, but so much more was to be gained.

The early morning sky, dark navy and not yet lightened by dawn, was as full of stars like a sugar cookie was covered in rainbow sprinkles. The sea looked almost black. Misty was amazed by this sight—there were never this many stars visible from where she'd lived, the water never quite so pretty—and only drew her sight away when her almost-shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair rippled in a sudden sea breeze and promptly whipped into her face, her bangs fanning out to the side. Her ocean-blue eyes shut tight to shield them from being attacked by flailing strands, she scowled and brushed the offending hair away, only to have it scorn her authority and sway back into her eyes as her Pichu ears twitched; dear Arceus, she much preferred it when her hair was chin-length. It wasn't quite as annoying. How long had it _been_ since she'd had a haircut? Obviously much too long; she didn't care to count the exact number of months.

Viola poked the side of her head without much effort, for she was a whole head taller than Misty now, and asked, "Is your hair being disobedient again?"

"Yes," Misty grumbled, crossing her arms angrily, but smirked to show that she wasn't really all that grumpy. She was quiet for a moment, but finally that contemplative expression was shoved aside to make room for the well-known look of mischief that was so often seen on her face. "Wanna go see what the Professor's doing?" she asked, giggling quietly to herself.

"Tree-Lady?" Viola clarified, calling her by the nickname that had been so often used by the children. "Uh-huh!" Viola whispered back, rather loudly due to the excitement that mischievous deeds always brought as part of the package. They probably weren't _supposed_ to go visit the Professor in the middle of the night, or whatever time it was now, but no one said they weren't _allowed_ to. Besides, the boat was moving, which meant that she had to be awake.

Misty stood up, holding the report she'd been reading in one hand and shoving aside her worn blue blanket with the other. Viola was already on her feet, having left her blanket on the other side of the ship, where the other children slept. "Reading again?" Viola asked, gesturing to the report. "I suppose that's why you've secluded yourself here on the side instead of staying with the rest of us at the back."

Misty nodded. "Even after being apart for so long, you still know me so well! Yeah, that's why."

"May I?"

Misty wordlessly handed her the crudely-made book. Viola frowned, scrutinizing its cover. It was water-stained almost directly in the center, and a section of it, the right corner and a little further in, had been burned away, leaving the handwritten words on the opening page visible and the edges of the pages burned slightly. "Wow, this thing looks really old. There's not even a name or a title on it. What's it about?"

"It's called _Project: Pokemon Morphs._ It's a bunch of reports, written by the Professor. If you couldn't guess by the title, it's about us," Misty supplied quietly. "There's a report about us as babies, one about us as five- or six-year-olds, and then, finally, there's a section about who our parents are. The one I read so far is the one about us as babies. It describes what we look like and act like and stuff. I just got up to the 'Pichu' section and was about to read it, but no, _someone_ had to notice I was awake." She smiled to show that she wasn't really angry.

"Ohhh…" Viola handed it back, looking curious. "I might wanna see that when you're done. I wonder what she wrote about my brother and sister and I…"

"She said nice stuff about you guys." Misty led the way to the only door on the deck, which led directly into the Professor's quarters, and pressed her index finger to her lips. "Shh…" Misty stood to the side so that she couldn't be spotted from inside, and, announced by a tiny giggle from Viola, she opened the door just wide enough to poke her head around and sneak a look inside.

The Professor was standing at the front of her cabin, seemingly lost in thought, staring blankly out at the sea through the windows that allowed her a flawless view, as she kept a firm grip on the steering wheel. She was standing silent vigil for them, guiding their boat across the dark water in search of land, of safety, of the promise of a new start to life. _Guiding us across the ocean is the best she can do for us to make up for what she could not do before_, Misty mused, understanding that this must be what the Professor was thinking.

Suddenly she smiled and glanced slightly upwards at the windows. "You can either come in now or go back to bed, Misty, Viola. I can see your reflections in the window. You two were never good at being sneaky."

"Aww," Viola complained, stifling a yawn. Misty, looking rather cross, muttered something inaudibly.

"Oh, Arceus and Mew, why did _you_ get that Vulpix?" the Professor sighed exasperatedly. "Keep up that language, missy, and you'll taste dish detergent for a week!"

"Sorry," Misty replied cheerfully, more from routine than actually feeling remorse, as was obvious.

"I'm gonna go, then...Night!" Viola backed out of the door quickly before she could see the threat carried out.

"Night, Viola." Misty settled herself on the Professor's bed, lying on her stomach facing the foot of the bed. She bent her legs so that her feet pointed into the air and began to wave her feet rhythmically back and forth to a beat of her own design. "Will you teach me how to steer a boat?" she asked curiously.

"Maybe someday. Not tonight, if that's what you mean."

"Someday soon? I wanna steer the boat next time we go on a voyage."

"You're too young to be the captain of a boat, my dear. When you're old enough I'll teach you."

"I'm old enough to save all your lives, yet I'm too little to steer a boat?"

"Good point. No one gives children quite enough credit." The Professor cast a glance back at the Pichu Morph, looking anxious. The question she asked next would be of a sensitive nature, Misty could tell from her expression. "Misty, will you tell me about that? I want to write down everything that happened to you, starting from that day at the orphanage, as part of my report. Would you tell me?"

Misty didn't reply at first. Her ponderings as to the answer to this faded away, and her eyes glazed over. She couldn't answer that right now; she was too busy being sucked into the far-off nothingness called memories…

**_- P I C H U P I C H U -_**

**A/N:** I ain't no scientist, so don't ask me how this chromosome thingy works. I don't really know myself. I tried to make it as realistic as possible. Just go along with it. XP

PokeMorphs aren't my idea. I don't remember how I learned about them.

Reviews would be nice! Let me know what you think!

**Also,** **I'm warning you now**: I have NO life outside of school. For instance, I spent six hours doing homework today, and about two or three yesterday. Plus I have after-school activities almost every weekday. Therefore, I'm afraid gaps between chapters will be long. I'm sorry for the people interested but that's how my life works.


	3. Chapter 1: Boring Bob

**A/N: Review replies!**

**Foxyjosh: Yup, Misty does have a Vulpix. She's...interesting, I'll give her that.**

**Flory: You ought to like the story, Flory; as my sister you're obligated to. 'Sides, it's a heck of a lot better than the last version, in which the next three or four chapters were all one jumbled mess, and Misty was just like "Oh, I'm a Morph? Yay! I'm going to go save the world now! *cue dramatic music as Misty runs off into the mountains or sunset or something in slow motion*"**

**Tsaukpaetra: Thank you much!**

**As for the rest of you people who favorited/story alert-ed this story, you ought to tell me what you think, too! You know who you are. =P I can't improve if people don't tell the aspiring author what they think!**

**_- P I C H U P I C H U -_**

"Misty!"

The little seven-year-old girl looked up from where she sat on the doorstep, her chin-length tawny-blonde hair swinging about as she turned her head. Ocean-blue eyes peered up at the tall but friendly-looking young blonde woman who stood looking outside from the orphanage's front door. Setting down the thick piece of outdoor chalk that she had been drawing with, she wiped her hands, multicolored with chalk dust, on her already smudged jeans and faded blue T-shirt and replied, "Yes, Ms. Barret?"

The unassuming white building that Misty sat in front of was the orphanage she and the other children had lived in for most of their lives. This was where they were observed living out as normal a life as one could get in such a place. The children were all very close, more like siblings than roommates. Yet in those eight years that the experiment had been going on, only two of them, Jay and Andrew, had been adopted. The children, after many months of debating among themselves, came to the conclusion that no one liked them enough to adopt them; however, in fact, there had been many potential adopters. The only problem was that they were not normal children, quite obviously, and the adoption process took so long and was so tedious that most people gave up halfway through.

The woman, presumably Ms. Barret, who was running the orphanage, shook her head. "Misty, dear, whatever are you doing outside without letting anyone know where you were?"

Misty shrugged. "Drawing. I made a rainbow and a sky." She pointed to a long multicolored smudge and a huge blue-and-white square.

"That's very nice. Now you come inside right this instant and get yourself washed up. It's time for the news! You want to see Jay and Andrew on TV, don't you?"

Misty nodded eagerly, suddenly looking excited. She hurried past Ms. Barret, who also came back inside and closed the door behind her. Inside the lobby, the children were huddled in front of a TV screen, watching the screen intently for any sign of their former orphanage-mate. "Cara!" Misty called over to the group. One tall girl with very long, bubblegum-pink hair looked up and turned her golden gaze over to Misty questioningly. "Help. I need to wash my hands and I still can't reach the sink well enough," she declared, presenting the pastel masterpiece on her palms as evidence.

What had been an annoyed expression softened into that of affection. "Okay, Misty. I'll be right there."

Without waiting for Cara, Misty darted out of the lobby and off to the small bathroom in the hallway that led to the dormitories. The pink porcelain sink was level with the top of her head; needless to say, Misty was a very short seven-year-old. Craning her head in the hopes that she could see what she was doing, she stood on tiptoe and flailed her hands about in the general area of the faucet, searching in vain for the handle that would turn the water on.

Suddenly she was lifted up into the air by a pair of arms encircled around her waist. Startled by the sudden movement, Misty let out a shriek of alarm and kicked out her legs, struggling against her captor. "Leggo, whoever you are! Not funny!"

The person put her down on the ground again, but refused to let go of her waist. Misty kept struggling. A strand of pink hair dangling in front of Misty's face revealed the identity of the person, just as she began to speak. "Misty. Relax. It's just me. Just Cara. I thought you wanted me to help you...?"

Misty struggled to pry Cara's hands from her sides. "Yeah, but I wanna get a warning first. No s'prises." Cara relaxed her grip slightly, and Misty managed to release herself from Cara's hold. She turned around, smiling up at the girl she viewed as her older sister. "Okay, _now_ you can help me," she declared, satisfied now that she had escaped.

Cara grinned back at her, and once again Misty was struck with a pang of envy. Why couldn't _she _look like her "sister" did? Like a normal person? Cara didn't look anything like the rest of those here at the orphanage. She looked like a normal person, only with unusual hair and eye color. Misty was never sure what made Cara's parents leave her here. She was so pretty; so was her twin sister, Abigail. Cara's hair and eyes, so unique, and the round shape of her face made her look like she was a lollypop turned human. She always wore bright colors, like the white Capri pants and pink-with-gold-music-notes shirt she was wearing today. Abigail, with shoulder-length new-snow white hair and pale ice-blue eyes, looked rather like a fairytale character, like Cinderella. The pastel peachy-pink shade of the sisters' skin just added to their respective images. (Yes, Misty was a very observant seven-year-old...)

And Misty? Misty was just _Misty_. She had chin-length brown-blonde hair, leaning more towards the blonde side of the scale, that curved inwards at the ends. Her big eyes were a vibrant, ocean-water blue—nothing too special, although very pretty. She had a heart-shaped face. She was very, very short; the only thing that kept her from being mistaken for a three- or four-year-old was her abnormally large vocabulary and the fact that she wasn't as immature as a four-year-old. Her outfit consisted of T-shirts, shorts, jeans, and those cloth jackets she had an inexplicable fondness for. No dresses, no skirts; Misty was a self-proclaimed tomboy. And who could forget the ears and tail? The Pichu ears on the top of her head and that black flag-like tail were always there to remind her that she was different. She was plain, she was simple, and she was different. Not that different—everyone else here had ears and a tail, too, except for Cara and Abigail—but still different.

"Turn around, then, Mist," Cara directed, jolting Misty out of her envious thoughts. She obliged, and Cara carefully held her close to the sink. "Wash up quick; you're not heavy, but I still can't hold you forever," she added. Misty barely managed to reach the handle and turned on the water, to the highest force possible. She shoved her hands under the gush of water, spraying drops everywhere, and struggled to get a grip on the bar of soap. She scrubbed off the chalk dust as best she could, rinsed off her hands again, and turned the water off. "All done?" Cara clarified.

"Uh-huh," Misty agreed, snatching up a towel and beginning to dry off her hands.

"Going down!" She set Misty back on the ground. The little girl grinned up at her, carelessly tossed the towel onto the closed lid of the toilet, and darted off back into the lobby. Before she got too far, Cara caught up to her and grabbed her by the waist again; Misty let out a shriek of laughter as Cara swung her around and said, "You're going to need to pick that up once the news is over!"

"But I don't wanna..."

Cara set her down and ruffled her hair. "Well, you have to. We're to keep the bathroom tidy. Come on; let's go see if Abigail stole my seat." As it turned out, she hadn't, and so Cara sidestepped the other children and settled back into her vacated place. Misty struggled to squeeze into what little space there was next to her, an endeavor that was failing miserably until Cara finally pulled Misty onto her lap. The seven-year-old was small enough for Cara to see over her head, if Cara looked through the space between Misty's large Pichu ears.

The room was awfully quiet this evening. Normally, during their weekly ritual of watching the news on Saturdays during what Ms. Barret called "family time," the usual complaints about what someone would rather be doing right then, the pointless arguments about trivial matters, like what dessert would consist of that day, and the oh-so-common hisses of "Shh!" were not to be heard. Every other Saturday night, of course, such comments were commonplace. Personally, Misty could never muster up any interest in the news, and neither could some of the other orphans, quite obviously. It was all grown-up things they showed, like who saw this, what went on here, how so-and-so found this amazing something-something. It was never anything _good_. Nothing Pokémon-related. Never Pokémon-related. Little Berryton, where the orphanage was located, was close to Cerulean City—but it was closer to Slate Village than there. Slate Village was a safe haven for the Poképhobic and for those who despised Pokémon and everything to do with them. The company their cable box was from serviced Slate Village; thus, no Pokémon on TV. To make an already bads predicament worse, Ms. Barret didn't believe in letting them have free reign of the television, so no cartoons for them, either! It was a terribly boring regimen they had going on here. At least the news was followed by the best part of the evening—dessert! Hopefully they'd get ice cream sundaes tonight...

The newscaster, Bob something-or-other, droned on and on about how this "amazing" artifact had been found in the most recently discovered region, Sinnoh. By the time he had finished, the kids were all whispering among themselves, blatantly ignoring Ms. Barret's request for them to hush; a couple of the girls were half-asleep with their heads on their friends' shoulders. Misty was the first to spot it; she let out a loud cry of "Look, look; it's starting! Jay and Andrew are on TV!"

Misty couldn't help but smile as she saw the face of two boys she'd known for as long as she could remember, two pairs of dark gray eyes looking out at the orphans, the closest looking almost as if he could see his old orphanage-mates watching him—which he couldn't even if he was here. Jay was blind, but that didn't stop him from anything. He talked to the reporters confidently, telling them all about his new family, with his brother Andrew beside him, looking excited. They both wore baseball caps to cover their Rattata ears, and they had cleverly chosen to sit down as they were interviewed—probably Jay's idea—so as to make the tails inconspicuous. All of the orphans, in fact, kept their ears hidden outside of the orphanage by some sort of a hat or bandanna, because, in the words of Ms. Barret, they "didn't want to draw attention to their 'uniqueness.'"

Jay and Andrew talked about the experience for a while, though Misty could vaguely tell that a few of the answers they gave to some of the questions were scripted. For instance, there was no way on Arceus's green earth that Jay would say "Oh, I'm so happy I could cry!" Jay wasn't emotional, at all. A video clip was shown of the two boys coming out of the orphanage with their new parents, with the rest of the orphans flooding out onto the front steps to say goodbye—meaning that they jumped up and down, waved at the camera, started screaming farewells, or some combination of the three. The kids eagerly picked out themselves out from the crowd, recognizing the color of a bandanna or hat, or reminisced aloud about how wonderfully exciting that whole day had been.

The clip ended, and all of the children were disappointed that "Boring Bob" was back to conclude this segment of the news in his typical, monotone voice. They expressed this displeasure with a chorus of groans and loud complaints. "Both Jay and Andrew are very excited and optimistic about their new family," Bob stated tonelessly. "James and Maryanne Avery were unable to have any children of their own, but they're thrilled that they have been given the opportunity to raise these two charming young boys, and we, of course, are all excited on their behalf." Funny; he sure didn't sound excited. "To the newest members of the Avery family, we wish the best of—"

He broke off as suddenly an off-screen assistant rushed over, frantically waving a paper around as she whispered furiously to Boring Bob. A grumble of disapproval rose from the assembled children as they muttered amongst themselves about how rude it was that stupid Bob dared to interrupt Jay and Andrew's shot at the spotlight. Misty, on the other hand, was focused on something else. For the first time in her life, she noticed that Bob was actually looking _interested_ in something as he listened to the assistant, nodding occasionally. What was it that intrigued him so? Misty tilted her head, curious herself, and wriggled with excitement as the assistant relinquished the paper to Bob. Now _this_ was more like it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's certainly no coincidence that this piece of news arrived just as we conclude this segment of the news broadcast. I know that most of you are opposed to this type of news, but please listen, as we have a dire warning to you. We have just received word that ten illegal Pokémon-human hybrids are speculated to be residing in Mercy Orphanage of Berryton; in fact, it is rumored that the only orphans you will find in this orphanage are hybrids. The OCHCPS, short for the Organization for Control of Hybrids, Clones, and Pokémon Species, has dispatched members to search the premises for evidence of these hybrids, otherwise known as Pokémon Morphs. This information was obtained via a telephone call to the OCHCPS, from a person who wishes to remain anonymous. Along with this vital information, the names of these beings were revealed as well." Bob paused, peering closely at the names. "Andrew and Jay Lightfoot, now Avery, of course; Abigail and Cara Bliss; Kiera, Krowe, and Viola Taylor; Jasmyn and Xavier Fausette; last but not least, Misty—"

No-Longer-Boring Bob was cut off as Ms. Barret suddenly chose to interrupt by pushing the mute button. Misty let out a whine of complaint as Bob's voice was unable to be heard any longer, and she turned her head to glare at her caretaker. How dare she interrupt this curious bit of news? Surely it wasn't true. The whole thing sounded ridiculous. But Ms. Barret looked so worried that Misty could not be angry; she was already rushing about the room, moving things aside and looking behind them before putting them back in their place again. The room was deathly silent, and, looking at all the frightened faces, Misty began to feel worried, too.

"Children, you must leave. Now," Ms. Barret declared, still running around frenetically and seeming to be searching for something. Misty stared at her with wide eyes, hardly daring to think of what was happening. "Oh, heavens, I knew something like this would happen…"

"But Ms. Barret!" Kiera jumped up, her thick waist-length brown-with-ivory-streaks hair flying outwards as she whipped around to face the adult. Stomping one on her sock-clad feet, she protested loudly, "That's just silly! There's no way that we're hybrids! Hybrids!" she repeated the word, navy blue eyes sparking with amusement. "It's not true; there's no way it could be possible! Could you imagine it? Us, hybrids!" The girl burst out laughing, her Eevee ears and tail bouncing in her mirth. Misty watched her curiously, too interested with the proceedings to fully realize the danger they were in or to form her own opinion on the situation. Glancing around, she saw the majority of the other orphans nodding in agreement with Kiera's statement. If everyone agreed, then Kiera must be right…right?

The Eevee girl looked up at Ms. Barret, expecting to see her laughing too. The woman said nothing, but merely cast a slightly mournful gaze over at Kiera and continued on with her search. Misty saw some of the color drain from Kiera's face; her ears felt flat against her head and her tail drooped. Misty shuddered as an eerie hush fell over the room, accompanied by a feeling of foreboding that she could not explain. She leaned back against Cara, who absentmindedly twirled a strand of Misty's hair around her index finger over and over again while never taking her eyes of the situation unfolding before them. Even Misty began to be frightened as she felt Cara flinch ever so slightly and saw her bite her lip anxiously.

"We—we are, aren't we?" Kiera finally squeaked. The normally rambunctious girl's voice was heavily subdued by fear. "You told us that all of our parents were very cruel people who took each of us to some place and had them do this weird surgery on us to make us look like this! Was that all a _lie_?" Kiera demanded, an accusatory note entering her voice.

Ms. Barret bowed her head, unable to meet the eyes of her charges. "Your parents did not do anything of the sort to you. They left you here as soon as you were born. Your parents conceived you for the sole reason of your participating in a secret scientific experiment, called Project: Pokémon Morph. They don't know if you are dead or still alive, and I'm sorry, but quite frankly I don't think some of them care either way. If you recall the doctor who comes here to examine you every few months—Doctor Maple—she is really _Professor_ Maple, the lead scientist running the still ongoing project. I was one of the people who looked after your mothers. You are indeed hybrids, children. You are Pokémon Morphs. I never wanted you would find out this soon…oh, my, you're much too young to know." Ms. Barret nodded to herself subconsciously, as if assuring herself that the explanation was at least decent, and finally looked up to see how they were reacting to this news.

Misty was in utter shock, to say the least. Her blue eyes were wide, and she gasped quietly. Scientific experiment. Hybrids. Project. _Pokémon Morph_! This _hurt_! Was there _anything_ about them that was normal? How dare they keep this from them? Misty was pretty darn angry now. Heck, Misty was downright furious! This was insane! How could they…? Why, she ought to let them see just how—

"What does this OC-whatever want with us?" Cara asked quietly.

"How do I put this…?" Ms. Barret hesitated. "The OCHCPS—the Organization for Control of Illegal Hybrids, Clones, and Pokémon Species—controls every aspect of scientific experimentation in the continent of Kanto, down to the tiniest details. Ever since the fiasco with Mewtwo about thirty years ago, the OCHCPS has been very strict regarding experimentation in the area of creating new life. And, um, well…" Ms. Barret paused, looking abashed as she admitted, "Well, our experimentation wasn't exactly…legal. We worked behind the OCHCPS's back. It was all done in Professor Maple's laboratory, hidden away on the summit of Mount Moon. It was kept a very confidential matter. No one except the parents and the scientists involved knew a thing about it."

_Great_, Misty thought sullenly. _So now it's illegal for us to be alive, too. Just wonderful._

The room was silent. Evidently the children could think of nothing else to say. Ms. Barret, still looking uncomfortable, released a quiet sigh of relief as she threw open the closet door and pulled out a cardboard box. Misty craned her head to see better, still seething a bit from the news. The box had been opened before, evidently recently judging from the new-cardboard smell. "All of you, come here in an orderly fashion. You each will get one of these."

Silently, solemn-faced with the revelation of their existence, each of them filed up one by one to receive the mystery item. The line inched forwards at a Shellos's pace, until finally she was in front and Ms. Barret set a red-and-white sphere in her hand. Top half red, bottom half white. A hinge on the back that attached to the metallic rim connecting the halves, opened by pushing the button in the center. A small lightning bolt symbol was engraved just above the center. Ms. Barret had given her a Pokéball.

She stared at the red-and-white sphere in her hand. It was warm. That must mean that it contained a Pokémon. She looked up at Ms. Barret incredulously, wondering if there was some sort of mistake. She was seven. She was too young to have a Pokémon! They _all_ were too young to have Pokémon! She opened her mouth to say something, but was nudged aside by Cara. "Not now, Mist," she murmured, accepting the Pokéball offered to her without a second thought.

None of the children had sat down, but Misty did, right on the end table. This was troubling. They'd all gotten Pokéballs, and Misty was quite sure by now that nobody's was empty. What was Ms. Barret planning on doing, and why? Why did they need Pokéballs?

She'd sat on the remote. The sound returned, louder than ever, just in time to hear Boring Bob say things that would come to haunt her until the day she died.

"…Pokémon Morphs are creatures that have, until now, never been known to have existed, aside from in fairytales. These half-human, half-Pokémon beings are potentially dangerous creatures with undeterminable personalities and enigmatic genetic structures. They are tricky creatures that, for all we know, act kindly and seem sweet, but are more likely to be violent, destructive, and ruthless. They are a _threat_ to our society, so much so that all buildings within a mile of the orphanage are being evacuated for the safety of their inhabitants. Again, I would advise everyone to remain in their houses until the organization behind this is shut down, and all of these little terrors exterminated."


	4. Chapter 2: Nothing

**A/N: As a six-days-until-Christmas present to you, I have managed to (finally) finish this chapter!** **I doubt I will update any other day before Christmas, so merry Christmas to everyone who read this fic! I present you with one of my dad's locally-famous chocolate chip cookies. Expect the next chapter sometime before January 5th!**

**Foxyjosh: Thanks for pointing out that mistake! Have an extra cookie for your help!**

**_- P I C H U P I C H U -_**

Misty couldn't find her capacity to breathe as she slowly stood up, picked up the remote, and turned off the TV. It was eerily quiet again, aside from the walls taunting them, repeating that last word. Terminated…_Terminated_. She looked up at Cara, searching desperately for some sort of condolence from her. But Cara was, after all, only a bit more than a year older than Misty; she was just as upset by this news, her lips pursed together as she fought back tears.

"Now—" Ms. Barret choked on her words, just as frightened and upset as anyone here. She was in almost as much danger as they were, Misty realized dimly. Almost as much—she probably wasn't going to be killed upon capture, though. At least not right away. "Now, I want you all to—to follow me. Right now. I will lead you to the secret passageway out. I'll tell you the safest route away from here, and I want you all to stick together. No matter what happens…keep going. _No matter what_," she repeated emphatically. "Understood?"

No one spoke a word. Each orphan just nodded in assent, eyes on the floor.

Ms. Barret turned towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms, but before she even took a step towards it there was a sudden series of bangs on the front door. Sirens suddenly blared, alerting the occupants of the building to the presence of police and such—the OCHCPS was evidently here already. Someone shouted through a megaphone, "This is the Organization for Control of Illegal Hybrids, Clones, and Pokémon Species! Surrender the hybrids now, and come out with your hands up!"

Ms. Barret paled, her face turning sheet white, and Misty was sure she was going to either faint due to shock or have some sort of heart attack. Misty felt her ingrained faith in those older than her shaken to its very roots. Ms. Barret was an adult. Adults _never_ got scared; adults were always brave, always strong, and always knew what to do. Seeing Ms. Barret scared half to death was frightening Misty more than their imminent doom was. If even Ms. Barret was scared…

Suddenly her eyes flashed with a sudden burst of courage and she lifted her head challengingly. She couldn't xplain where this sudden bravery came from, but whatever these OCH-whatever people wanted her to do, she would never do it. The other so-called orphans seemed to be thinking along the same lines, although no one was really doing anything about it. The voice screamed at them again when no one came out willingly. "Then we will use force! We _will_ get those hybrids!" Misty shrieked in alarm and immediately clung to the nearest piece of furniture as the household suddenly shook; the officers were using their Pokémon to ram into the locked door repeatedly.

The sudden assault must have brought Ms. Barret to her senses, for now she forged on, heading down the hallways at a rapid pace. The children followed like ducklings did their mother. They whisked past the boys' dormitory, the girls' on the other side of the hallway, the bathrooms, the numerous closets, until, finally, they came to the door at the end of the hallway. It looked rickety and dull with disuse; no one had ever been inside since as long as Misty could remember, since it had always been locked, nor could she recall it ever being cleaned. She shuddered at the thought of all the bugs that would surely be crawling around inside.

"Misty!" Ms. Barret was signaling to her, gesturing for her to follow the other children as the sound of splintering wood grew more obvious. Misty quickly obliged. They filed in record time into the usually locked room—or, rather, staircase, because what was hidden behind this old door was a spiraling stairway. There were no lights, and no windows. Misty could tell by the low ceiling, though, and the faint light that came in through the still open doorway, that the staircase led downwards. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Ms. Barret quietly shut the door behind them. For a moment when she turned back around, she could see the other hybrids in front of her, but then they were plunged into pitch darkness. A click, and it was evident that the door was locked again. "Go straight down," the voice of Ms. Barret whispered. "Be careful, and try not to fall. There's another set of stairs close by once you reach the bottom; you'll need to go up them and through the trap door leading outside. When you're outside, go hide in the woods. I'll send someone to help you when I can." A murmur of assent sounded from the children as they cautiously but still quickly dashed down the stairs. Misty was glad that none of them were wearing shoes; if they were, the racket of eleven pairs of shoe soles hitting the steps at such a rapid pace would have caused a racket like none other! Socks were much quieter, and therefore safer.

Just as the last child reached the bottom landing, they heard the front door splinter loudly like a gunshot and give way to the OCHCPS investigators. There probably wasn't much time left for them to escape. They darted for the upwards staircase in a flash, scrambling up it as if their lives depended on it. Misty suppressed a shudder as she realized that such a scenario was actually plausible right now.

They were close to the top when someone exclaimed, "I've found it!" The hushed cry sounded loud in the enclosed area, and Misty recognized the voice of Jasmyn. "I can see the trap door! I'm just tall enough to open it!" A quick prayer of thanks to Mew rang out, and Misty breathed out a sigh of relief. They might just make it out of this alive after all. She quickly hurried up this second set of stairs, at the top of which the others quickly gathered. Misty watched as one by one they scrambled out through the exit.

"Hurry!" Ms. Barret whispered as Misty, the only one still inside, hesitated to leave. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to soak up as much of the place's essence as she could; it was hard to imagine that this place was no longer safe for her, but finally she gave in. The young girl finally slipped outside, giving a farewell nod to her caretaker. She understood without need of explanation that Ms. Barret could not come with them, for their sake. She would hinder them; she was too big to slip away unnoticed.

She slipped behind a tree nearby and heard the trap door shut almost silently. After a moment she dared to peer out from behind her hiding spot. They'd emerged at the edge of a grove of trees that grew beside the orphanage. Men and women, donning black uniforms emblazoned with golden lettering across the front and emblems on their sleeves, were stationed everywhere, and their Pokémon were scattered about the area. Not a single one looked distracted or preoccupied; there was no way to escape, except head through the trees as Ms. Barret had suggested and hope that there weren't any people doing exactly what they were now. Her hopes fell slightly as she thought of how hard it would be to escape. No one was wearing anything to conceal his or her ears or tail; it was the first time any of them had been outside without the protective headwear. How could they evade the guards and flee safely? There was a stupid girl wearing that uniform that was standing barely five feet away from them; luckily, her Pokémon were either in their Pokéballs or elsewhere, but it still wouldn't be easy getting away.

As if Misty's thoughts had summoned her, the female agent turned to look in her direction. At once, she whipped back into her shelter, but her hopes were now completely shattered as she realized it was too late. She had been spotted. Viola proceeded to sneeze and further clarified their positions. "Hey!" the urgent and angry cry went up. "The hybrids are escaping though the back!"

Misty grumbled a rather non-childlike curse as agents ran toward the escapees in droves. She turned and fled a few steps, then stopped. In her hand, sweaty due to fear, she still clutched the Pokéball she'd been given. It was still warm, and shuddered a little; _let me out, _the Pokémon inside seemed to beckon. _I'll help you._

Of course!

"Go, uh, whatever Pokémon you are!" Misty commanded, tossing her Pokéball into the air, just as many others from the orphanage did so. The white light on the ground that shot out from her Pokéball formed first into an oval shape, slowly growing more lean, then sprouted four willowy legs. Pointy ears poked out from a head with a slender muzzle. A curly tuft of hair burst from between the ears. Six fluffy tails that curled at the ends fanned the air as the light died away, revealing its reddish-brown fur.

"Vul! Pix vul!" growled the Pokémon defensively, immediately positioning itself—or herself, rather—into a battle stance.

"Ahh, cool! I got a Vulpix," Misty crowed, grinning in spite of the danger she was in. She adored Fire-type Pokémon—especially _cute_ Fire type Pokémon! Vulpix just so happened to be one of her favorites. What a coincidence.

"They're armed!" hollered one agent as he watched the Vulpix lunge at one of his Pokémon, a Houndoom. The Pokémon of her fellow orphanage-mates were appearing everywhere you looked and shouting battle cries. "Grab them before they attack!" continued the officer, immediately attempting to snatch up her Vulpix. Misty shouted a command as all around her the other agents lunged for the children and the Pokémon sprang into action. They were fending off the agents surprisingly well.

A sudden scream jolted Misty out of her thoughts of battle. Cara! All thoughts of defending herself and her Vulpix were forgotten in an instant. She immediately scrambled towards the voice, her Vulpix letting out a squeak of alarm as its trainer hurried off. "Cara!" she called out desperately. "Cara, where are you?" There was no reply as she dashed by other Morphs and agents fighting. "Cara, no!" Finally she spotted Cara from afar; the Ditto Morph had been tackled and shoved down to the ground by an OCHCPS agent, along with her Tailow, who was still desperately trying to save its new trainer by pecking at the agents' heads.

What was she _doing_? She wouldn't just stand there like a dumbstruck idiot while one of her best friends, her "sister," was being taken from her! No way, no how! She attempted to race off to the battle of wills, but it was to no avail, for a group of agents barred her way, sending their own Pokémon into combat with her own little Vulpix. "Cara!" Misty cried out again desperately, oblivious to anything going on around her. She could just barely see through the forest of legs—she wasn't any taller than the agents' waists. Cara's head had whipped around to look in her general direction, and as if heartened by the sound of Misty's voice she struggled all the harder against he who was holding her down. But it was to no avail; the man was twice her size and strength. Still forcing her face into the dirt with his weight, he held her hands behind her back and quickly tied them together. The bonds were pulled tightly and she was confiscated of her Pokéball. With a shriek of alarm, Cara's Tailow was recalled back into its Pokéball. Misty struggled to dodge around the agents battling her, but they moved to block her way. The man stood up and spoke to her for a moment, towering over her threateningly. Cara flinched, but made no move to get up from where she still lay from being thrown onto the ground. Misty could see her face now. The force of the tackle had made Cara's nose bleed, and a thick, steady river of crimson was trickling its way into her open mouth. She was visibly panting. Dirt was smudged all over her face and arms. She said something Misty couldn't hear; then the man smiled cruelly and picked Cara up by the collar of her shirt. She was screaming again. The pressure on her throat was making it difficult even to do that. He carried her halfway across the clearing; by the time they reached a truck, the type that moving companies generally use, Cara's face was purple and blue from her restricted air intake. He flung open the back doors and threw her—yes, literally threw her—into the truck. The single moment that it took for him to shut the doors again lasted a lifetime for Misty.

Four crumpled bodies were inside, not counting Cara. Two pairs of Eevee ears and one bushy Eevee tail attached to three of the figures collapsed inside alerted Misty to the fact that the triplets had been captured. No surprise there; they must have cornered one and the other two had futilely come charging to the rescue. Mess with one, you messed with all three. Still, it upset Misty to see Viola, her other closest friend besides Cara, lying limply on the hard floor of the truck, only the top of her head visible. The other captive was Xavier, a Minun Morph, Jasmyn's brother, a deep cut on one ear and a tiny dark puddle slowly growing on the floor of the truck beneath it.

Misty took a step back as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She turned her head away; she couldn't bring herself to look over there anymore. Instead she looked around her. Her stomach clenched as she realized that only she was left standing. Jasmyn and Abigail were struggling against the hordes of agents toting them to the truck. Misty held her stomach and nearly doubled over, unaware of an Ember attack flying over her right shoulder. She felt like she was going to be sick; this was too much for her. She was all alone…until they got her, too. And surely it wouldn't take too long.

She took a few deep breaths and stood up again. The feeling of physical sickness still lingered, but it had lessened just slightly. The agents were rushing towards either her or the truck. This time one carried a tranquilizer gun, and he was aiming it for her Vulpix, whom Misty had just remembered was there. Vulpix, still fighting to protect her charge—or was it trainer?—she, Misty, should be more like that! There was no giving up, now that she'd lasted this long. She was going to fight to stay free.

She glanced at the truck, knowing that they all were inside, about to be carted off to their deaths. Bleeding. Vulnerable. The way they were treated spoke louder than anything the OCHCPS members could say themselves. Cara, Viola, the others, even herself—they were looked at as nothing more than creatures. Creatures without feelings, nothing more than experiments, stupid hybrids that deserved what they got. They were Pokémon Morphs, they were something entirely different, they were a new species, something never encountered before—and so they weren't alive. No one considered their humanity. They were humans, too!—but no one thought of their human side, only of their Pokémon heritage, only of the illegality of their existence. They were different, so they didn't deserve to be treated as living things.

Vulpix dodged the first tranquilizer dart. Most of the agents, twenty, thirty of them, were gathered around, watching, just watching, interested to see who would win, eager to keep out of the way of the darts. The second attempt brushed through the fur on her back, a miss that was too close for comfort. The agent was looking angry now, frustrated that he was unable to hit his target. Vulpix scoffed, spit out a few embers, and grinned mischievously, as if mocking him. "Stupid Pokémon," he complained loudly. "Give it up! Don't you know what kind of monster you're defending?"

And that was the straw that broke the Numel's back. Misty's eyes narrowed. She clenched her fists tightly. _We don't even have a say in this. We're just—just __pests, just stupid freaks of nature__! We are _nothing_ to them! _Her heart pounded, pumping pure anger and adrenalin through her veins. She didn't notice the sparks jumping from one ear to the other, making her hair stand on end. Her vision blurred with tears, she lifted her head and screamed a single word:

"_**Stop!"**_

She didn't think; it just happened. As a matter of fact, she didn't even know _how_ it happened. A moment after her outburst she saw him crumpled on the ground; the tranquilizer gun had fallen, unharmed, onto the ground a foot away from him. Sparks were shooting off from every surface on her, not just her ears anymore, and her clothes were blackened in some places, even burned away in some small areas. The sparks felt like little tingles running up and down her body, though she barely noticed the feeling. The man's clothes were charred, worse than her own were, his hair sticking up in erratic spikes. The grass around him was black. She didn't look at his face; she didn't want to look at his face; she couldn't look at his face, for fear of what she'd see there.

She didn't need to, anyway. She knew he was dead.

Misty found herself rooted to the ground; she couldn't move, even though she tried. Her head swam, her throat prickled, her stomach felt awfully strange. She'd just killed someone! Oh, Arceus and Mew, she'd killed someone. She was seven, and she'd killed someone. Luckily, she hadn't fainted yet, although she'd no idea that the strange symptoms she was experiencing were indiction of being close to fainting.

Vulpix looked stunned, even sickened to some extent. The weaker witnesses lost their lunches, wiping their mouths on their black sleeves; some, like Misty was close to doing, promptly fainted on the spot. The rest looked deathly pale, and some of them had rushed up to their fallen comrade. "Someone call the paramedics, fast!" came a cry. "There's no pulse; someone needs to help, someone who knows CPR; he's not breathing!"

They were all swarming around him, a sea of black uniforms with "OCHCPS" written in silver lettering on the front. Their Pokémon leapt around, trying to get a view of what was going on; the more timid ones shied away into the bushes, whimpering. "He had a family," Misty heard a voice say quietly. "What will they tell his daughters…and what will happen to us now?"

"Show's over for you, kid. Get out of here while you can!" another voice told her. Misty didn't question who it was. She had to go; she had to get far away from here! Her feet were unstuck from the ground; she began to run, run as fast as she could. Vulpix followed, limping.

"Hey! Freak, you aren't getting away!" The sudden shout made her run even faster. She didn't turn to see who had said it, just kept running. Her heart pounded in time with her footsteps. She panted, willing herself to keep running. She heard his heavy footsteps. He was bigger than she was. He was catching up. A dart whizzed by her ear but she kept going. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to live, and find out who she really was, and try to save the others if they weren't dead yet.

The edge of the forest was in sight.

She had to keep going—!

She felt the pinch of the tranquilizer dart as it punctured the skin on the back of her left thigh. She flinched. She was getting sleepy…so sleepy…but she had to keep going…she couldn't stop…no…she wasn't going to make it…she didn't want to die.

She stumbled. Her world went black.


	5. Chapter 3: Of BandAids and Little Girls

**A/N: REVIEW TIME!**

**Foxyjosh: Oops, guess I didn't make that clear. The two boys had been captured previous to the news bulletin. Must've accidentally deleted that sentence revising the original story...**

**Tsaukpaetra: Yeah, she is the main character of the story. And we'll find out a lot about that sympathizer in chapter 4. And I fully intend to keep going! ^^**

**As for whether or not those captured face inevitable doom, well, you'll just have to read on...**

_- P I C H U P I C H U –_

She flinched, scrambling backwards on all four limbs. The steps were even, not lurching due to the uneven lengths of arms and legs, but she didn't take any particular notice. She pressed herself into the farthest corner she could, shoving her body frantically into the tiny crevice. The dark silhouettes of adults, towering over her, tall as skyscrapers, holding needles aloft, crept over to her. A voice ordered, "Someone hold her still."

Another voice asked, "Anyone got something to keep her from biting? She's too scared to listen to us when we tell her she's safe; she'll probably try to hurt us the moment we get close."

She was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes blurred with tears of pain and fright; she couldn't speak, she was so afraid. She understood what they were saying as they went on talking but her mind was racing and she couldn't process a single word they said. _Danger_, her mind was screaming, over and over and over. She hated these people, hated them so much. She didn't want this, never wanted this. _Why_ were they doing this to her?

The closest person loomed over her, getting closer, closer; she held her by the wrist in a tight grip. The young woman ignored the teeth of her captive digging into her arm as another person held the little, thrashing body by the waist to forcibly keep her still. She drew back from the huge figures, releasing the woman's arm, and cried out in a high-pitched voice. She was almost paralyzed with terror, but no matter how much she fought, the two people didn't let go. They disregarded the electricity crackling around them as, quick as a flash, they stuck the needle into a vein in her arm.

Misty jolted awake with a scream, her damaged and torn clothes damp with sweat, and sat up so quickly that the other inhabitants of the room started.

_Oh, thank Arceus, thank Mew. It was a dream…just a dream…!_ She was drenched with sweat, and even in the waking world she was shaking so badly that she couldn't even speak. She barely noticed when her Vulpix nudged her arm and voiced concern.

It took a few moments for her to realize that she was—yes—in a room. With someone else, not counting Vulpix.

Misty jumped to her feet, alarmed by the presence of another girl and by the fact that she didn't recognize where she was. Her gaze flicked from one side of the room to the other, frantically taking note of every exit, every door and window, she could possibly get to. "W-who are you? Wh-wha-what do you w-want?" she stammered, still managing to sound semi-threatening. She clenched her hands into fists. She was going to get out of here. She wasn't going to get taken to the OCHCPS, no matter what. No one was going to get her, no one!

"I'm not going to kill you or turn you over, you know." The peaceful voice that came from the older girl sitting near her managed to calm Misty, at least a little. She eyed the girl carefully; if she'd learned anything from that near-death incident, it was to be cautious. The girl looked about nine or ten, with wavy brown hair and brown almond-shaped eyes that somehow looked familiar, clad in a cloud-patterned blue short-sleeved top and denim jeans. She smiled lightly up at Misty. "The OCHCPS went away. I was the one who rescued you when you got hit with the dart. I took you inside so they wouldn't find you."

Misty wanted to believe that, but how could that be possible? "But you're little, like me. They evacuated everywhere around my orphanage." She frowned, troubled. "Your mommy wouldn't've let you stay here. We Pok—" She couldn't bring herself to say the terminology of their species name; it was too fresh a discovery, and she needed time to learn to accept it. "…The people like me would apparently kill you when we saw you."

The girl was unfazed. "Well, I did help you, and I can prove it. See, I bandaged the spot where you got hit on your leg. If I wanted to give you to the evil people I would have left you outside for the OCHCPS to get you yesterday." That was really all that needed to be said, but the girl went on anyway. "You've been sleeping for a whole day now, you know. That tranquilizer stuff they used must be really powerful, maybe the kind for big, strong Pokémon, like Tyranitar," she thought aloud. Misty couldn't help noticing how slowly and dreamily she spoke, almost as if she were savoring every moment of her life. It was a very peaceful sound…

Misty slowly sat down, not taking her eyes off the girl. Finally she broke eye contact long enough to examine her leg. True to her word, the tiny spot where the dart had punctured her skin was covered by an orange Teddiursa-pattered Band-Aid. Misty's eyes widened with surprise and she glanced up at the girl. "You must have, I guess…I never had Band-Aids with pictures on them before. Only the boring orangey-brown kind. And I didn't bring any with me."

The girl grinned. "Told you so!" She paused. "My name is Marissa, by the way. I'm ten."

"I'm Misty. So how did I get in here? How did I not get captured?"

"I had my Kirlia—her name is Haile—make you invisible. She made you and her invisible and the people were all confused. And so she teleported you and her inside here before they started looking."

"How could she make us both invisible?"

"I don't know. She says it has something to do with forcefields and light. And that it's like mirages. She had to practice a lot to learn to do it."

"Ohh…" Misty looked around again. "So where is your Kirlia now?"

"Haile's keeping watch, to make sure nobody comes here. She's good at spying. When I was your age we used to spy on this mean girl who used to live across the street, and she never knew we were watching her," Marissa rambled on with a smile.

Misty was quiet for a moment. She felt as if she'd gotten enough information to mentally size up the girl. Despite her sometimes immature wording, Misty was a pretty observant girl. Marissa seemed okay. From what she'd heard so far, Marissa said whatever was on her mind and spoke honestly. Although she did seem to go off on tangents very frequently...

"You look really familiar…" Misty commented to herself, hoping that perhaps speaking it aloud would help ring a bell as to who it was Marissa looked like.

"Ms. Barret," Marissa replied without looking up from where she sat stroking Vulpix.

Evidently Misty hadn't spoken as quietly as she thought she had. She looked over at Marissa, perplexed. "You know Ms. Barret?"

Finally there was a shred of an emotion other than eternal happiness in the girl's voice. Impatiently, she responded, "Well, yes. Otherwise I wouldn't have known who I looked like, now would I? Ms. Barret's my aunt, my Aunt Eliza. Haile is really her Kirlia. Aunt Eliza left her to me last year when Haile started talking about how you guys were going to be in great danger. Haile's really shy, by the way."

"Wait—_talking_?" Misty repeated in astonishment. "Pokémon can't talk."

"Yah-huh, they can." Marissa shot her a "boy, are _you_ stupid" look. "Pokémon don't just say their names for fun, you know. I mean, do _we_ walk around shouting 'Marissa! Marissa!' or 'Misty! Misty!' just because we can? They're _communicating_, and I was born with the ability to understand them."

Misty was amazed. She'd never heard of such a thing before. Eyes as wide as saucers, she asked, "How do you do it?"

Marissa shrugged but had a difficult time with hiding her self-satisfaction. "I don't know. I just can," she declared smugly.

"Is it just Haile—your Kirlia—that you talk to?" Marissa nodded cheerfully. "Are you sure that you don't just understand her because she can speak telepathically?" Misty asked doubtfully.

Marissa considered this for a moment. Her face fell, then brightened again. "Oh. I didn't think of that. Oh well. Anyway… I got it all figured out, what you should do and all." Marissa paused to make sure Misty was listening, then continued on in a brisk, business-like tone that was awfully strange to hear coming from this girl. "I'm going to call the emergency-people and tell them that you're heading towards Viridian City. You need to leave right away, going the opposite way. I wish I could have Haile teleport you away but she can't go too far from here, in case the 'thorities show up by teleportation as well. The OCHCPS left a while ago—they're looking around Cerulean now, or so I heard—that's where their base is, after all, and they expect you to come after your friends, so there's little danger facing you unless that's where you intend to go. I personally feel it would be best for you to head elsewhere until the panic settles down."

"But what about the others?" Misty demanded, referring to the other Morphs. "They're gonna _die_ if I don't help them!"

"Not right away. I talked to Haile about your situation and she says that there's a high chance that the OCHCPS won't kill them just yet. You guys are a completely new species entirely—no offense mean to you; I don't know if you'll take kindly to me saying that—so they won't want to destroy any of you right away. They'll pro'ly want to study you and see just how human in DNA and behavior and stuff you are. And other nasty stuff they do to the people they get their hands on. Plus I heard my Aunt Eliza talking to my mom one day and she was talking about you guys and how if you ever got caught, you'd probably have at least two years afterwards to live because they'd want to get every detail possible written down."

Misty was quiet for a moment. "So…I shouldn't go right away?"

"Didn't I just say that? It'd be a good idea to wait and gather up some followers—Pokémon, that is, ones who are good at battling and willing to help you get into a high security building and guide you through a near-death experience. I doubt other humans besides myself would be very nice to you, and I have to stay and give everybody the false information, so we're of no use to you."

Misty stood still, absentmindedly twirling her hair around her index finger. "I guess that makes sense," she admitted finally, adding with a frown, "but 'near-death experience' makes the whole thing sound a lot less appealing."

"Well, it is. You're in a near-death experience right now, sort of, by being alive."

"_Gee_, thanks. That makes me feel _so_ much better."

"You're very welcome!" Obviously having missed the sarcasm in the comment, Marissa grinned and headed towards the videophone. "You better leave. I'll give you a five-minute head start so you're not caught nearby!"

Misty nodded. "Thanks for helping me…and for the awesome band-aid!" She couldn't resist twisting her body around to look at the patterned bandage once more. She didn't wait for a response, as any _polite_ person would, but rather shoved her way out of the door, calling back, "C'mon, Vulpix!" Her vulpine partner looked amused as she wriggled out through the closing door.

Marissa turned away, still able to hear the now-cheerful little escapee chattering away to her Vulpix as she hurried away. A flash of light announced the sudden entrance of a Kirlia, who delicately peered over to watch the small girl carefully dial a number—a number too long to be the emergency line. She cradled the phone on her shoulder as she fiddled with her hair. After a moment, someone picked up. Beaming brightly, she exclaimed, "Hi, Mommy!...Uh-huh. You were right; I did see that freaky Pokémon girl…." She leaned out of range of the camera's view, carefully peering out the window to see Misty skipping away from the house with Vulpix frolicking at her feet. "…Yeah, I know. I was really glad I could help you and the OCHCPS, Mommy. So, you wanna know where she's headed, right?


	6. Chapter 4: Revelations

Gray buildings…gray sidewalks…gray outfits on people who owned grim-looking faces…Boy, this place sure was gloomy. The only things that weren't gray were the black street and whitish cloudy sky, which unfortunately complimented the dismal mood. Misty couldn't help but stare as she slowly made her way into none other than Slate Village.

Of course, she wasn't actually aware of what town she was in, and for the record, neither was Vulpix. In fact, Misty, at least, wasn't even sure whether or not she was headed in the right direction. Therefore, not only was she lost, but she also had no clue in which direction she was supposed to be heading. Misty frowned. How was she to figure out where to go? Better keep walking for now…

"Pix, vul vulpix?" asked her Pokémon, leaping beside her new trainer protectively as a stranger walked past, glancing at the Vulpix with obvious hostility. _Are you okay? _The words echoed in Misty's mind as, lost in thought, she responded without questioning why she could understand.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Misty said finally. "Let's stop somewhere. My feet are gonna fall off if I hafta walk anymore." Vulpix nodded, contentedly leading the way to a nearby set of porch stairs. She sniffed along the bottom step as a precaution, tested it with a paw, and jumped up, settling down daintily. She gestured for her trainer to sit and join her. Shrugging as if to say _if you insist_, Misty obliged, her distant gaze still fixed on a place beyond seeing. "Anyway, I wasn't the one fighting—much. I should be asking _you_ if you're okay."

"I'm fine," replied her Vulpix, smiling. "In fact, battling never felt so great! I've been in that Pokéball for so long I almost literally forgot how to walk," she added ruefully. She indicated a swollen hind paw, tiny patches of furless flesh revealing wounds from a nasty bite. "Tripped and some Houndour got too good a grip on my poor paw." Vulpix snorted disdainfully, but quickly perked up as she boasted, "Still, I did pretty good back there, didn't I? Guess I haven't forgotten all my moves just yet!" The Vulpix leapt to her paws and demonstrated by throwing a few embers into the street, where they quickly died out.

"Oh, yeah, you did do good…" Misty replied, still half in her own little world. She was quiet for a moment, and opened her mouth to speak, but was suddenly interrupted by Vulpix.

The vulpine Pokémon was staring down the street to where a small crowd was gathering, a couple of policemen in the midst of it all. "Crap, oh crap…" Vulpix stuttered, her eyes wide. She stepped closer to Misty, nudging her urgently. "Time to come back from Dreamland, kid. We've gotta skedaddle. Like, now."

"What?" Misty looked up and finally took notice of the crowd. The people were shouting and someone pointed in her direction. The policemen broke free from the frantic group and, though walking at a normal pace and in an unthreatening way, they made a beeline for her. "What's up with them?"

"Misty, you're a Pokémon Morph, and everyone around has been told that you're some sort of mutant evildoer. You're standing in a town in broad daylight, nonchalantly talking to a _Pokémon_, may I add, while news that you've escaped is broadcasted to the entire continent. Yet you don't know why they're coming after you?" Vulpix exclaimed in disbelief. "We've got to go!"

"Crap, you're right," Misty realized aloud, jumping up. "Let's get out of here!" She and Vulpix quickly darted around the corner. A shout from one of the policemen alerted them to the fact that they were giving chase.

"This way," Vulpix instructed with a wave of her tails, quickening the pace as she led Misty down the street. Both of them were faster than the cops, thankfully, but Vulpix was by far the fastest of all; she had pulled ahead by several feet when she made a sudden swerve into darkness. Misty glanced over her shoulder. The policemen had vanished, but Misty had a feeling that the sirens she could hear in the distance meant more would be coming soon. "Vulpix?" Misty called, running faster until she reached the spot Vulpix had vanished at. It turned out to be a small street, darkened by two great buildings flanking either side of the street. Tiny houses were built on either side. At the very end stood a brick house. It was filthy and the roof had caved in slightly, but Vulpix stood on its crooked steps, calling to her urgently. "Look alive, Misty! There's no time to stand gawking at the scenery! Get over here!"

"Are you serious? It's gross!" Misty protested.

"Hush up and do as you're told!"

Sighing, Misty raced up to the house. _I can't believe I'm doing this,_ she lamented as she scrambled up the wooden stairs leading to the front door. A couple creaked dangerously and a spot where the wood was rotting nearly gave out under her weight, but she made it inside without incident. The inside was just as filthy. The floor was caked with dust and the wallpaper faded. A hole in the ceiling let in a weak beam of sunlight. There was no furniture to speak of; the house must have been abandoned long ago.

"Get down," Vulpix ordered. Misty glanced over to see that her partner was already pressed into a corner, her fur sprinkled with a fine coating of dust. "Sounds like the police will be here momentarily. If they spot you, you're dead meat."

At last the sirens had been brought back to Misty's attention and she noticed that they sounded very close. She had no choice. Shuddering with revulsion, Misty wriggled her way through an almost literal ocean of dust into a corner behind a radiator that had been dislodged from its original position. She first made acquaintance with a spider web, which she noticed only upon sticking her face into it. Stifling a scream of terror and disgust, she wiped it away and peered out from her corner to look out the window. A coating of grime made the scene nothing more than blurry shapes, but the flashing red and blue lights that flew past the corner alerted her to the fact that the police had not detected the dark street they were hidden in.

She held her breath, hardly daring to believe that they had really passed her by. It was too easy, too good to be true. "Have—have they really gone?" she squeaked out to Vulpix.

"Don't know for sure," Vulpix whispered back. "We're gonna have to stay here 'til it's dark. We can't risk leaving or even moving until then; the whole town's going to be on the alert for so much as a glimpse of us for a while yet. I can't believe I didn't realize that we've been walking around in broad daylight…." Misty couldn't see her from her angle but was sure that the Vulpix had stopped talking because she was thinking at the moment. She could almost hear the cogs turning in the little Pokémon's brain. "You may as well attempt to sleep for now, Misty, seeing as we won't be going anywhere by daylight for a long time now."

"You expect me to sleep with spider webs and dust everywhere and an old radiator squishing me against the wall?" she asked incredulously. "I think I'll pass."

Vulpix snorted. "Believe me, kid, you'll sleep in worse places than behind a dusty radiator among the spiders by the time we're though with all this."

This comment, though probably meant well, did little to make her any more comfortable. In fact, it just made her all the more unhappy with the current situation and made her long for the simplicity of her life in the orphanage. _Right about now, we'd all be playing together_, she mused, _and all we cared about was how much we wanted ice cream sundaes for desert and who was It in Tag…Now, they're probably prisoners or dead, and if I'm found I'll join them…_She shuddered at the thought, tears of grief welling up in her eyes. She stayed curled in her hiding spot, hands sweaty and shaking with nerves, for hours while the room grew gradually dimmer and dimmer as the sun sunk in the sky and then set.

"Okey-dokey, kiddo, we're home free!" Misty started when Lauren spoke from just beside her, jerking her head up so fast that it hit the radiator with a resonating crash. She clutched her head, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a yelp. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was and wondered when the orphanage had gotten a radiator so close to the ground. Then she remembered that she wasn't at the orphanage anymore. She crawled out of the corner on hands and knees, pausing to stretch in hopes of ridding her body of its stiffness. She glanced out the window, wondering when it had gotten so dark.

Vulpix popped out from the other side of the radiator. "You passed out sometime before sunset. Did you know you talk in your sleep?" she added, clearly amused. "You were going on about how 'the evil spiders should go to a fiery pit of doom.'"

Misty blushed, embarrassed. "I don't talk in my sleep," she muttered, though fully aware that she actually did. However, this was only due to comments by her roommates at the orphanage.

"Yes, you do, and it was pretty darn funny." Vulpix chuckled to herself. Then she grew serious. "Anyhow, we ought to get going. We're probably lucky we haven't gotten caught yet." She moved closer towards the exit, hardly waiting for her young charge.

"No, wait, hold on," Misty protested, holding back a yawn. "I have questions."

Vulpix let out a sigh and dramatically plopped down right where she stood. "Better get them over with now. We might be overheard otherwise."

"Okay…so, first off, Vulpix, how are we talking to each other?"

"You don't know?" Vulpix asked in disbelief. "Nothing about your speech patterns?" Misty shook her head, bemused. "Oh. Well, I feel pretty silly now. I assumed you knew when I caught you listening to that guy's Pokémon, after…after, well, after that accident before we met Marissa. Besides, I told you to get away and you did listen to me, so you had to have heard, and more importantly, understood." Misty thought back to what Vulpix was referring to.

…"_He had a family," Misty heard someone say quietly. "What will they tell his daughters…and what will happen to us now?"…_

…"_Get out of here, now!" another voice told her. Misty didn't question who it was.…_

Misty tried to ignore the violent twitch in her stomach when "the accident" was mentioned and pressed her hands together to stop them from shaking. "That was you?" she asked with surprise, managing to keep her voice level.

"The one and only," Vulpix replied cheerfully, oblivious to Misty's emotional state.

"How did I understand you, and how can I even talk back?"

"Well, you generally speak the common language, you know, normal human speech. Obviously, I don't, because I'm not human. You can understand me because you were taught the language of your species—Pichu, in your case—when you were just toddlers. You learned it well before anyone ever taught you the common language. Half the time when you Pokemorphs were little toddlers, you all would slip in and out of Pokémon speech without realizing it. Apparently you still do. You talk in Pichu without being consciously aware of it, I guess."

Misty's eyes widened with surprise. "Oh. I can speak Pichu?" Indeed, as she listened carefully to the words emitting from her mouth, she heard a steady stream of "pichu"s. "Cool." She hesitated. "But how does that make me able to understand Vulpix speech?"

"We Pokémon generally have a general pattern of syllables that make up certain words, so it's easy for us to pick up on meanings," Vulpix said, shrugging. "Like, "pika" would mean the same thing as "vul" because they're both the first syllable in each specie's name. I mean, granted, it's not going to be the same everywhere, but it's similar enough. My old trainer before you told me that we Pokémon—and I guess you too, since you can understand more Pokémon than just Pichu's evolutionary chain—have this certain thing in our brains that helps us process it automatically. Like you humans and the common language—you don't have to consciously go over every word and piece together the meaning of what someone says. It's so well encoded into your brain that you understand instantly."

This explanation was a bit much for Misty's young brain to process, so she decided to change the subject. She gave the Pokémon a small smile. "So, um, do you have a name besides Vulpix?" she asked shyly.

" 'Vulpix' isn't a name; it's a species," the aforementioned Pokémon pointed out. "But yes. My name is Lauren."

"Lauren?" Misty asked curiously. "Wow, that's an _actual_ name. I thought it'd be something like Vulpixpix or something." She paused. "What? Lauren is a human name and I was surprised," she defended as Lauren gave her a reproachful look.

"It may _sound_ like 'Vulpixpix" to a normal human's ears, but we _do_ give our offspring logical names, you know," Lauren informed her reproachfully. She clearly disliked any implication that she was of inferior intelligence. "For example, I was born with the name Blaze. However…when I was caught, my trainer then named me Lauren as she couldn't understand my name meaning. Hence why my name makes sense to you as a human. Figured I may as well stay Lauren since I haven't been called Blaze for seven years."

"Oh…."

"Is that all you have to say? 'Oh?'" Lauren asked, allowing amusement to be heard in her voice.

"Well, I don't know what else to say," Misty retorted with a small pout.

Lauren shook her head and laughed. "Well, if that's so, we may as well get going."

Misty did not move from her spot. "Well, no. That's…not really all I wanted to know…."

"I don't think I like where this is going…," Lauren observed aloud upon seeing the expression on Misty's face. "What, then?"

Misty dropped her gaze to her toes, avoiding eye contact. "Well…I was just kind of wondering…." Her expression turned troubled, pain-filled, and her eyes welled up with tears despite her best efforts. "What was it I did when I k-ki-…when that guy di-…I mean…b-back in Berryton?"

Lauren hesitated. "That would be a Thunderbolt," she replied quietly, looking remorseful.

"How did I do it?" Misty asked desperately. "Will I ever do it again? I didn't mean to kill him!" she rambled with audible remorse.

"You didn't know you could use electrical attacks, did you?" It was more a statement then a question. Intuitively knowing Misty needed an explanation, she went on, "Basically, your whole body runs on its own electricity. In your case, since you're part Pichu, you have excess electrical power that's stored somewhere in your body. I'm not sure where; you clearly don't have a Pichu's cheek pouches. But anyway, when you were in danger, your body reacted instinctively and released all the stored electricity. Pichu are well known for shocking anything that threatens them; it's just a reflex. Unfortunately, since the people in charge of you never figured out how to discharge your electricity on a frequent basis without you catching on, you had a lot stored up so your attack was supercharged." She stopped just short of saying that it had probably stopped his heart, realizing just in time that it was too much knowledge to burden a child with. "You didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't your fault."

"B-but if the-ey catch me, I'll…I'll still g-go to ja-ail!" Misty said between tiny sobs, droplets of salty water running down her cheeks. "I…h-he died! An' I d-did it! I'm a b-bad person…."

Lauren shook her head dismissively and nudged Misty's knees. "You listen up and listen good. You're not old enough to go to jail and you would not go to jail even if you were. You were _not_ responsible for that mess because you _didn't know_ something like that could happen. If anyone is to blame, it's that guy for getting you all worked up. Understand?" Silence. "An answer would be nice, kiddo."

Misty nodded, forcefully rubbing her eyes clean of all traces of tears. "Uh-huh…," she answered quietly.

"Do you believe me?"

She paused, finally getting her breathing under control. "I dunno…."

"How do you not know?" Lauren asked incredulously. Trying to cheer up her young charge, she added with a very serious expression and tone of voice, "You should never doubt my almighty wisdom, you know. I know everything. Even what you're going to have for breakfast tomorrow. We're gonna go on a pancake raid at the farmhouses down the road." Misty giggled a little despite herself. Lauren, satisfied for now, nudged open the door. "We'll talk more later on, I swear, but we have to get moving. We can't risk staying here for too long."

"Where are we going?" Misty asked as she made to follow the Vulpix.

"Well, away from this town, of course. Probably south towards Saffron City, I'm thinking. Scouting around there might not be such a bad idea," Lauren thought aloud.

"Okay." The sky was dark now, and the streets were only illuminated by sparse streetlights. Pokémon and unofficial trainer slipped out from the dilapidated home. Its steps creaked as if in farewell, and in a matter of moments, the runaway Vulpix and Pokémorph darted around the corner and out of sight.

_- P I C H U P I C H U -_

**A/N:// For the record, when Lauren the Vulpix speaks, she is, as any other Vulpix would be, saying her name, but it is simpler to just put her translated speech into the quotation marks as substitute. I'm sure you won't mind, considering that reading "vulpix vul vulpix pix vul" every other line would get _really _boring _really _fast.**


End file.
